


Snaffle Bit

by WolffyLuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Crafts, Dialogue Heavy, Family, Gen, Missing Scene, Nargothrond, kid!Celebrimbor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 18:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/pseuds/WolffyLuna
Summary: Curufin and Celebrimbor discuss judgment  and riding bits, at different points in their lives.





	Snaffle Bit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MythopoeticReality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythopoeticReality/gifts).



> MythopoeticReality, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. (I'll take any excuse to write about Celebrimbor, especially if I can squeeze odd symbolism in there.)
> 
> The end notes have explanations of some of the equestrian terms explained. If there's anything (general) you don't understand, feel free to ask in the comments! I'll admit I'm not always good at judging what is common knowledge about horses and what isn't.

“Father?” Celebrimbor walked towards Curufin, the bit he just made clutched in his hand. A simple snaffle, with a single link. A beginner's bit, for both rider and maker. 

Curufin hunched over a table, silhouetted by the gemlight illuminating his work. “Yes?” 

“I have something to show you. I wanted to see what you think of it?” 

Curufin set down the maille he worked on (not the chainmail that Beleriand would know, not armour, but fine, shining fabric with a knotwork pattern of copper and silver), and turned around.

Celebrimbor held out his hands, the bit resting on them. 

“What do you think?” Curufin asked. 

“I’m not sure what to think. That’s why I asked your opinion,” Celebrimbor said. Curufin’s expression made it clear that this was not the correct answer, and Celebrimbor suppressed a cringe of embarrassment. (That would have been a worse answer.)

“It’s an important skill as a craftsman, to evaluate your own work,” Curufin said. 

Celebrimbor looked down at the bit. “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” 

Celebrimbor did not need to see his face to see that that was also an incorrect answer. “It’s one of the first few I’ve made, and those are rarely good, but I can’t see any flaws in it, which may be because there are not any major ones, or because I haven’t got my eye in yet--” 

Curufin cut off his rapid fire explanation. “Hand it here.” 

Celebrimbor placed it in his hands. 

“‘Okay’ is rarely a helpful judgment. It’s a weak judgment. Stronger is judgments are much more useful for improvement.” Curufin turned it over in his hands, held it up to the light, tested the round link between the two halves of the bit. “The construction is good, but the link-- stiff is not the word. It’s range of motion is too limited. A soft bit for a soft horse, maybe. Not for anything harder.” He handed it back. “It’s acceptable.” 

“But a more mobile link would make it more than acceptable?” 

Curufin nodded, and turned back to his work, and Celebrimbor raced back to his tools to make the changes. 

***

It was many years later, as he hammered score and score of arrowhead on Lake Mithrim, that Celebrimbor realised that ‘acceptable’ was just another way to say ‘okay.’

***

The Feanorian host milled on the outskirts of Nargothrond. They would be exiled. They all knew it. 

But they were not yet.

Orodreth was not so cruel as to drive them out with torches into the wilds, with no time for them to prepare. 

Curufin tacked his mare, and cursed her missing bridle. She could be ridden just with leg aids, she was well trained, but he wanted contact with her mouth. Needed it. Needed to pull her head back, pull her neck back, pull her back like the string of a bow. Needed the leverage of a curb bit. Leading a host with a horse wearing a halter was doable, but not appealing. 

Celebrimbor walked up to him, half stride and half stroll. Confident. Curufin could tell it was faked. 

“You seem unprepared,” Curufin said. 

“I don’t need to be.” Celebrimbor stopped a stride length away from him. “I have spoken to Orodreth.” 

“What, and he’s keeping you out of the goodness of his heart? Because you made hound-eyes at him?” 

“I repudiated your deeds.” Celebrimbor said it calmly. He went quiet at times of high emotion. It was a useful skill, made him hard to read. (Curufin had taught him how.)

Right now Curufin felt insulted by his blankness. “You are aware of what that entails? It is no light thing, to turn your back on your family” 

“Yes. That is exactly why I have _done this_. What you have, our family has done, is unnacceptable-- No.” Celebrimbor shook his head, rejecting the word. “Stronger judgment is better for improvement. What you have done is _wrong_. Wronger than I have words for.”

“And did you turn aside when we turned Nargothrond away from it’s king? When we burned the boats at Losgar? Did you turn aside at Alqualondë? ” 

“No. I should have, but I didn’t. But someone taught me to think on decisions long and carefully.” Celebrimbor shrugged. “Maybe I should have ignored them.” 

“ _They_ are right in front of you,” Curufin hissed. 

“And I had to turn my back on them.” Celebrimbor removed the bridle hanging off his shoulder, and handed it to Curufin. “For you.” An unsaid ‘ _For one last time,’_ hung in the air. 

Curufin took it. It was his mare’s bridle, the same that had gone missing. But the bit was shiny. New. A simple snaffle, with a single link. No leverage, a gentle action. 

“A soft bit for a hard rider,” Celebrimbor said. 

They stood in front of each other, still and silent, caught between the tension of the ending of things between them, and the desire for the ending not have happened. All it would take would be physical distance, and all things would end between them, and they would be as strangers. 

But that would require someone to step back first. 

Curufin took another look at the bit. “It is... _okay_.” The word would have had venom, if Curufin did not speak with such exhaustion. 

He took his mare by the lead rope, and walked away. 

**Author's Note:**

> A bit is the part of the bridle that goes in the horse's mouth, and is attached to the reins. A snaffle bit is a bit that doesn't apply any extra leverage, so the pressure you put on the reins is the same as the pressure on the horse's mouth. A snaffle that's made of two pieces of metal linked in the middle is one of the more common types. While it is used by beginners, lot's of people use that style because it is relatively gentle. (Curufin saying it would only be good for 'soft' horses is... let's round that to 'inaccurate.')
> 
> Contact is the term for feeling the horse's mouth through the reins, and how much of it you have. (That's not the best explanation, unfortunately it's a bit of a loose term.) When Curufin is talking about pulling his horse back 'like a bowstring' he is talking about (in an odd way) about collection. Collecting a horse is getting them to engage their back muscles, and lean back a little, so they have more power. 
> 
> When Celebrimbor is talking about a linked snaffle being a 'soft bit for a hard rider' he's being pretty reasonable. (You shouldn't be being 'hard,' but if you're going to be, a linked snaffle isn't going to make your contact any harder.)


End file.
